We'll Always Have Omega
by Sagacious Rage
Summary: A series of encounters between Garrus and a non-Shepard human OC. Disparate people go to desperate measures. Dark M, slightly dub-conish.
1. Remember This

"What's a nice girl like you doing on a space station like this?"

Kells jumped and spun around, grabbing her pistol and hiding it behind her back. "How did you get in here?" she demanded of the large man standing just inside the door, silhouetted by the light outside her dingy apartment.

"Now, now, Miss Tealiegh. I wouldn't ask you to give up your trade secrets. For example: I didn't ask how you got in and out of my base. That's called 'professional courtesy'." Garrus drawled sardonically, sauntering in and locking the door behind him.

It took her a moment to recognize him, as she had grown accustomed to the sight of him in body armor. Out of it, he looked smaller, but no less powerful. She shivered slightly, aggravated at her own attraction to the way his ice blue eyes pierced her, the way his mandibles fluttered slightly. "What can I ask, then?" she countered, slipping a finger to check the safety. It was off.

He tilted his head thoughtfully, as his mandibles twitched. "If you want to play things that way, answer my question first."

She took a deep breath, trying to calm the quivering in her belly, the shaking in her knees. "I was looking for somebody. But I didn't find him, so I left. Why are you here, now? What do you want with me?"

"You know, I could help you with that," he made himself comfortable on the sofa, kicking his foot up on the coffee table and resting his rifle against his thigh. "I've been on Omega a few months. That's a lifetime in a place like this. If he's not here anymore, I might be able to find out where he went. But first, you'll have to tell me who you're looking for."

Kells turned away and fixed herself a drink. Was he one of the kinds that couldn't eat the same food? She hoped not. She wanted to insult him by not offering him any. "Why are you so interested in me, anyway?"

He shook his head. "See? You're not playing by the rules we've established. You have to answer my question first."

Kells turned back to him and leaned against the counter, draining her glass before slamming it on the counter and answering. "His name is Alek. Aleksander Justinian Borges. Leader of the rebellion on Honla, hero to the people, father to my son and utter bastard who abandoned all of us about eighteen months ago. That good enough?" She spat bitterly. "Now: answer my question. Why are you trying to help me?"

He regarded her a moment, unsure of how to proceed. How could he tell her? This woman was a total stranger. And besides, outside of species, they were nothing alike. This one was taller, thinner. She did not have the compact hardness and sure-footed grace of her, who had been conditioned almost from birth to be the consummate soldier. This one's eyes were too wide, a clear, hard grey instead of warm green. She had a mouth that was too wide, and seemed to want to smile more often than it did. Her auburn hair tumbled around her shoulders in an completely impractical way, an affectation Shep- _she_ would never have allowed herself.

But the conviction in her voice, the fire in her eye, the razor sharp wit and the steel in her nerves. The way she was hiding the pistol behind her back and managed to slip in and out of his base without anybody noticing until he reviewed the surveillance tapes when he couldn't sleep. And the way she set his blood on fire with desire. He felt alive for the first time since Shepard had died.

He shrugged and looked away, and Kells relaxed slightly, having grown uncomfortable in his steady, appraising gaze.

"I came to Omega to help people," he told her. "Usually, that 'help' means killing. It would be a nice change of pace to help by finding somebody I was supposed to keep alive."

"I don't like working with aliens," she said matter-of-factually. Yes, aliens. This was not a man. This was an alien. She tried to focus on that, but only found herself noticing how he was not Antiss. He eyes were expressive, he had a sense of humor, he didn't make her head ache with odd smells. And he wasn't Alek, either. He was dependable and capable and calm and serious. Her heart fluttered. "Besides, why would I accept help from somebody who's defenses were so easily penetrated?" she challenged him as she turned to pour another drink.

Garrus acted without thinking. Before Kells could react, he had one arm wrapped firmly around her waist, a leg wedged between hers and both hands pinned against the wall above her head. "Why don't we test your defenses before we start throwing insults around," he breathed against her neck, sending shivers down her spine as he deftly disarmed her and clicked the safety.

He holstered her weapon and she took advantage of her freed arms. She elbowed him in the side and started to slip out of the hold he had around her. But she was not quick enough, and he was too strong. She found herself seated on the counter, facing him, he was between her legs with her hands again pinned against the wall above her head. She struggled against him, trying to work her legs up to kick him away, even though she knew it was useless. "Just try it," she panted. "Brant will be back in a few minutes. How well do you think you'll do against both of us?"

His mandibles quirked and Kells couldn't help but notice how his nose crinkled slightly when he smiled. "I already took care of him."

Her heart plummeted, and she became truly afraid. "You monster! What have you done to him?" For all his faults, Brant was her truest friend in the galaxy. She could not manage without him. Panic rising, she began to fight in earnest.

Garrus tightened his grip. "No, it's not like that. I didn't hurt him, he's just... busy." The Asari had been expensive, but he had never seen her fail. He hoped Brant appreciated it. "Trust me, he'll be fine."

There was a moment, when he stared into her eyes and saw only the wounded terror of a caged animal. "Tell me to go," he said softly, holding her hands in one of his and using his free hand to stroke her hair gently. "Tell me to go and I will."

But she didn't. Fates forgive her, she didn't want him to go. "Why me? What are you really after, Archangel?"

His eyes grew haunted. "You remind me of somebody," he said simply. "Somebody I lost."

"Fair enough," she conceded. "You're nothing like him." She darted her head in and nipped him on the sensitive skin below his ear. He growled and reached up, under her skirt, and hooked a talon into her panties, tearing them off. She kicked off her shoes and hooked her toes on his waistband and pulled it down.

He stared at her in astonishment. "I didn't know humans could do that!"

"I'm a resourceful girl," she quipped, wrapping her legs around his waist and pulling him closer. "What else am I supposed to do when you limit my options?" She grinned in wicked triumph as she felt his arousal growing against her thigh. So that worked the same. Good, it would make things easier.

It was hard, and painful. He was bigger than she expected, and she was too nervous to look but she was sure there were bumps or plates or something that bit into her painfully. She welcomed it.

He let go of her hands and clung to her like a drowning man, plunging into her well of soft heat. She dug her fingers in between his plates, and nipped at sensitive exposed skin. He welcomed it.

It was a desperate act, painful and fierce and loveless and it hurt so sweetly. She wanted it to, she had been carrying the pain inside her heart and it broke and spilled over her body and finally it was out. She began to sob and he pulled back. "Are you alright?" he asked, concerned.

She slapped him as hard as she could. "Don't you dare stop now!"

His head spun and his cheek stung. Mandibles no longer fluttering, he slowly worked even deeper into her. She cried out in pain and ecstasy and he could no longer control himself. He spilled into her with a force that surprised even himself.

He remained within her a moment, reluctant to let the moment of companionship end. She shifted unexpectedly and he was free. He took a breath, trying to steady his racing heart as she slipped around him and off the counter. "Where is your child?" he asked, oddly curious.

"Get out," she ordered flatly, and too late he realized she had retrieved her pistol from his holster.

He pulled his pants back up before raising his hands. "Look, I just-"

"My son is safe and he's going to stay that way. Now get the fuck out before I kill you," she clicked the safety off

"You really ought to get to a clinic," he observed as he slowly made his way to the door, noting a trickle of blood making its way down her leg.

"I can take care of myself..."

"That much is evident."

"And if I even so much as think you're following me or trying to contact me, I will sell you to the Blue Suns. Got it?" She shook with anger. What a waste of time.

He grabbed his rifle and she cocked the trigger. "You might want this," he reached into his pocket and tossed a datapad onto the sofa. "A man matching Borges' description boarded a transport off of the station a few days ago. All the info's right there."

Her eyes darted to the datapad and then back to him. "Th-thank you."

He smiled sadly and turned to go. "I hope you find him. And that he has a damned good reason for running off. If not, well, you know how to find me."

She shook her head. "You need to be more careful about who you trust, Archangel. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but someday that generous heart of yours is going to get you into trouble. And when it does?" her mouth quirked. "Well, you know how to find me."


	2. Just a Sigh

He didn't even realize he was looking for her until she was there. Across the skylane, on the opposite balcony, walking swiftly down the concourse with a man he didn't recognize.

It couldn't be true. It must have been some other woman, wearing the same worn red coat with the same long, thick auburn hair and the same hypnotizing sway to her hips and...

He tore his eyes away. It wasn't her. It couldn't be. She was in a cell on, … what had they called it? Diaba, the prison moon. The reports had clearly listed her as one of the captured rebels. It had been a surprise, how much the news disturbed him. Between Shepard's resurrection and the new mission and tying up the loose ends regarding Sidonis, he hadn't allowed himself much time to think about it.

"Garrus?" Shepard asked, her green eyes looking up at him, warm with concern. "Something on your mind?"

"No, nothing," he straightened his posture.

It wasn't her. It couldn't be.

Kells climbed onto the stool and flagged the barkeep. "Whiskey, two ice cubes," she requested. The man next to her offered her a cigarette. "No thanks, Renny," she waved him off.

He shrugged and lit one for himself. "Any luck with the Volkis?" he asked.

"Volus," she corrected before shaking her head. "Apparently those guys aren't all that swayed by emotional appeal. And since I have nothing more concrete to offer..." she shrugged and sipped her drink. "Ugh," she frowned. "Earth whiskey. Why is it so _sweet_?"

Renny laughed and patted her on the back. "Who's next on the list? Those big fellas, Elcor? Maybe they're the romantic sort."

She sighed and swirled the liquid in her glass.

"Just don't try negotiating with any Batarian," a familiar voice drawled behind her. "You'll probably just get yourself sold into slavery, which seems like an 'out of the firepan, into the fire' sort of situation to me."

Kells shivered as his voice purred down her spine, and pulled a lock of hair over the left side of her face. "What's a guy like you doing on a nice planet like this?" she asked, not turning around.

Garrus slid onto the stool next to her, and she resisted the urge to turn. "Oh, you know, missions of deadly importance, saving the human race from certain extinction, that sort of thing. Comes up a lot."

She snorted into her glass. On the other side, Renny bristled. "Look, buddy. I don't know what you're selling but we're not interested. So beat it."

Garrus held his hands up. "I'm just trying to enjoy a drink with an old friend, here, but if there's some sort of problem, I'll just be on my way."

Renny glared. "You know this guy?" he muttered to Kells. "I got a pistol if..."

She smiled and shook her head. "Nah, it's ok. Actually," she leaned closer and dropped her voice, "if we could have a few minutes?"

Renny saluted and pushed away from the bar. "If he gives you any trouble, I'll be over there," he gestured at an extranet terminal on the other side of the room.

Kells waited until he was out of earshot before speaking. "What do you want?" she asked flatly. "If you're looking for blackmail you should know that I don't have two credits to rub together."

Garrus' mandibles twitched, and the movement shot a pang through his jaw. "I heard you were captured."

"I was. I got out," she took a deep breath, steeled her nerves, and turned to face him. "I heard you were dead."

"I was. I got better," he said, mandibles quirking. The pain in his scars flared in sympathy at the sight of the side of her face.

"That how Archangels work, then?" she said, arching an eyebrow and pushing her hair forward. A subconscious gesture to cover the angry scar that started in the middle of her forehead and reached all the way down to her left cheekbone, crossing an eye socket that was covered with a simple black patch. "Rising from the dead?"

"No, Archangel is gone for good. Garrus is still alive." If she wanted to explain the eye, she would. He wasn't going to embarrass her by asking. He waved the bartender over and ordered a drink.

"So, who was it then," she asked, munching on a pretzel. "Relken? Sidonis?"

"Sidonis," he admitted sullenly. "What gave it away?"

"Just a hunch," she shrugged. "I'm a good judge of character. At least," and her hand rose to her scar, "most of the time."

A bitter, burning feeling of rage and disgust churned inside him. He clenched his fist. "I'll kill him," he growled.

She tilted her head at him, amused. "Kill who, exactly?"

"That Borges. He'll pay for what he did to you," he replied, resolute. After all, it was their liaison that led to this despicable injury. "How else can I make it up to you for-"

She burst out laughing, which stunned him into silence. It occurred to her that she was probably drawing the attention of a lot of people at the sedate lounge, but she couldn't help it. The very notion that Alek would attack her even if he _did_ know about her fling with the Turian was just too much. "No, not Alek," she gasped, wiping a tear away. "The fucking Antiss did this to me. After that rat bastard Brant Murpha double-crossed us," she sighed and giggled, though it was tinged with bitterness. "So, yeah. Good judge of character. _Most_ of the time." She downed the rest of her drink in one swallow.

Garrus flagged the bartender for another.

"I don't accept gifts from aliens," she said, looking down.

"Take it," he insisted as he pushed it towards her.

She turned and looked him directly in the eye, and then reached out and knocked it onto the floor. Lifting her chin, she waved to the bartender to order another. "I _said_, I don't accept gifts from aliens."

Garrus leaned an elbow on the bar, trying to control the increase in his pulse at her challenge. "So how is it you're trolling Ilium for funding?"

She frowned and turned away. "I was told to. I don't like it. But Alek doesn't trust Cerberus, and the Alliance has enough of its own problems. So..." she shrugged. "Anyway, the money isn't for me. It's for the people. And so I do not accept gifts from aliens, but I do accept funds while acting as an agent of the people of Honla." She squared her shoulders.

"That's a tidy rationalization," he needled her.

"So why is Sidonis still alive?" She wasn't going to let him get the upper hand. Speaking of hands, or talons or claws or whatever, one of his had landed on her knee and began wandering up her thigh.

He stopped, mandibles flattening against his face. "Because _she _talked me out of it."

She smirked and crossed her legs, a movement that shifted her hem to a scandalous level. "Oh? So little Miss Once-Was-Lost-But-Now-Is-Found isn't the violent type? How'd a guy like you get mixed up with a girl like that?"

He snorted a laugh and shook his head. "No, it's not that, exactly. She just..." How could he explain? The righteous conviction. Again, she had thrown herself in front of his gun without a second thought, dragging him to a redemption he wasn't sure he deserved. "She thinks I'm a better man than I am."

Kells looked at Garrus for one long moment. She saw her own self-doubt mirrored in his eyes. Alek was the good one, the hero, the martyr. The one who sent her away from the fight. The one who still thought she was some kind of goddess incarnate. The one with both of his eyes. She downed the rest of her drink quickly and slid off the stool.

Garrus grabbed her wrist. "Where are you going?"

She stood on her tiptoes and pressed the length of her body against his arm. Resting her free hand on his shoulder, she pulled him down so she could whisper in his ear. "Living up to expectations is so tiresome," she purred. "Meet me in the bathroom in five minutes."

* * *

Five minutes later Garrus found himself standing in an empty restroom, not sure exactly what he had expected to find and feeling more than a little foolish.

"Here I was starting to worry you stood me up," a sultry voice teased from somewhere in the room, and he stifled a groan as all his blood started rushing to his groin.

"Well, you know. Military training, I like to be punctual," he cleared his throat and scanned the room, attempting to determine where she had hidden herself.

Kells crouched in the stall furthest from the door, marveling at the slick and shining clean of the whole room. She had seen dirtier surgical wings back on Honla. Garrus began to pace, breaking her reverie. She briefly considered toying with him further, but relented and kicked the door, causing it to swing open.

Garrus advanced slowly, feeling completely out of his element. "What... what exactly are we meeting _about_, Miss Tealiegh?" he asked, turning the corner on the door.

She struck, quick and sure as a snake, grabbing him by the belt, whipping him around, and slamming him against the wall with one hand as she yanked the door shut and locked it with the other. Wordlessly, she knelt in front of him and began unbuckling his armor. "Don't call me that anymore."

"C-call you... what are you doing?" He gave up the last pretense of control as she rapidly stripped him of his codpiece.

"You talk too much," she muttered, briefly considering his alien physiology. It was generally the same shape as she was used to, though proportionally larger and with a series of plates that retracted to expose him as his arousal increased. She lightly ran her finger along the bottom as he expanded to an impressive size.

No wonder she needed to go to the clinic after last time, she thought as she took him in her mouth.

Garrus leaned his head back against the cool tile as she began doing things to him that he did not know were possible. He wanted to explain to her how the whole idea of oral sex was not something that came up often among Turians. He also wanted to ask her why she didn't want him to call her by her name anymore, and ask who that man was that accompanied her, was he trustworthy, and did she consider a deal with the Hanar, they'd been known to take on philanthropic projects in the past and...

And then she curled her tongue and ran it from base to tip and thoughts of conversation scattered like shrapnel. "Wait," he blinked against the white haze clouding his vision. "Stop."

He grasped her shoulders and lifted her up until she was standing. "What's wrong?" she felt a flutter of panic in her chest as he turned an almost feral look on her. Damned aliens. She probably should have researched if any known cultures saw that sort of thing as an insult.

His mandibles quirked. "I don't think I'm physically capable of returning the favor," he admitted as he reached up under her skirt and slowly, gently, pulled her panties to her knees, talons brushing against the sensitive skin and raising goosebumps. "To deny you seems rude."

Trembling slightly, she raised a foot and allowed him to slip her underthings off and toss them on the floor. She reached up and grasped at a coat hook on the wall as he lifted her knees to his hips and drove into her with a swift and fluid motion. She gasped and closed her eyes, a mixture of anticipation and apprehension pulsing through her veins as she braced for the full impact.

The exquisite mix of pleasure of pain coursed through her body. She held him close to her as he drove ever deeper into her, a faint sheen of perspiration collecting on her brow and collarbone. Panting, she braced her back against the wall and her feet against the opposite, giving her leverage to push back against him.

It was a struggle to hold himself back, but Garrus knew from their last encounter how delicate Kells really was. She gasped against his good ear and clung to him, grinding her hips against his, pushing him ever further into her. A wild thought fluttered through Garrus' mind. He wondered if this lovely, warm and inviting physiological reaction was normal for all human women. Maybe... maybe if...

"Shepard," the name escaped his lips before he even realized he was thinking about her.

Kells froze, irritated more than _surprised_, really. She pushed him away, narrowing her eye.

"I, uh," Garrus wasn't sure what to do. He certainly didn't want to stop, but continuing seemed like a bad idea. "I guess I'll just..."

"No," she kicked a leg up, throwing him off balance, and they tumbled to the floor. He briefly wondered if humans were actually some kind of water creature as she moved around him in a fluid grace, and found himself lying on his back staring up at her, still straddling him, her hair hanging down like a curtain and an unreadable look on her face. "This is good," she said, "I don't want you to pretend like you love me."

It was madness. The fire in her expression as she rode him furiously, his continued attempts to figure out a way to hold off, to not injure her or at least not draw blood. The increasing realization that there was no way for him to accomplish that in his awkwardly submissive position.

A sharp slap across his unscarred cheek jolted him. "Are you thinking?" she demanded, bending forward until all he could see was her hair, the slope of her neck, the swell of her breast. "Stop it."

"As you command," he said softly, reaching up to draw his talons through her hair and flutter his mandibles against her neck. She shuddered in response and returned to her merciless pace. He slipped a hand to her hip, careful to grasp with the pads of his fingers and not pierce her skin, holding on for dear life.

She threw her head forward and cried out and he panicked slightly because what if somebody heard and investigated and … and then he lost himself as she clenched around him and he could not hold back any longer.

She showed no signs of moving. The cold tile pressing against his head fringe was becoming extremely uncomfortable and the possibility of somebody else entering the restroom was rapidly progressing to an inevitability. "Miss Tealiegh," he said gently, wincing internally as he remembered he wasn't supposed to call her that anymore.

She sighed and lifted herself off of him, aggravated at the reminder. Pulling her panties back on, she decided to confess fully. "I'm not Tealiegh, anymore. I got married."

He sighed and worked on replacing his armor. "Borges?" he asked, as if there were any question.

"What difference does it make?" She smoothed her hair, irritation increasing. "Yes. And then he sent me away not a week later."

"And your child?"

She whirled on him, blazing. "He's still safe, you son of a bitch. And if I even _imagine _that you've breathed a single word of his existence to anybody, I'll murder your precious Shepard while you watch."

He jumped to his feet. "I'd like to see you try," he growled.

She stared into his eyes, and he marveled at how practiced she was at guarding her expression. She reached into a pocket and pulled out a cocktail napkin and a pencil. "How short a leash does she have you on, anyway?" she asked, scribbling a note.

"Why do you ask?" The prospect of another liaison was more intoxicating than he expected. "I can go where I want." It wasn't exactly a lie.

She handed him the napkin, expression still calm as stone. "Be at that place at that time, fourteen days from today."

She slipped out while before he finished reading it.

* * *

"What is the purpose of this excursion, exactly," Thane asked, large dark eyes reflecting the lights in a thoroughly unsettling way as Garrus paced along the concourse, not at all appreciating the scenic view of the Ilium skyline the location provided.

"I'm supposed to meet a frie-" but his explanation was cut off when the platform was rocked by an explosion from the other side of the skylane. "What the hell was that?" he exclaimed, drawing his weapon.

Thane took up cover behind a large planter, Garrus took point, scanning the crowd of people running, screaming, panicking. There did not seem to be any more attacks forthcoming.

Relaxing slightly, he holstered his weapon. "Must have been some kind of accident," he shrugged.

"Funny," a small, dark haired human woman approached him, tilting her head and smirking slightly. "You're not exactly what I expected an angel to look like."

Garrus traded glances with Thane, who had not yet holstered his weapon. "Do I know you?" he asked, crossing his arms.

"Relax," she held out a cocktail napkin, "our mutual friend wants you to get rid of this after you read it."

Checking one last time to make sure that Thane was still on his guard, Garrus glanced down at the note. His blood ran cold, then blazing hot.

_ Archangel_

_Check the Cerberus news feed tomorrow. One casualty: the rat. You're welcome._

_ Tealiegh_


	3. Time Goes By

Kells toyed with her wine glass, debating whether or not she should have it refilled. Reluctantly, she decided to wait before having another drink. Keeping her wits about her would probably be a good idea. She sighed and straightened her shoulders, glancing about the room.

The crush of guests at the reception was impressive. It had surprised Kells when the invitation arrived. She had asked Alek why in the world a whore would want them to come to her party, and his reasoning was that maybe the Consort wasn't a whore, exactly. He was right. Whatever label you chose, Consort or concubine, she was a very well-liked one.

Kells retreated even further into the shadows, seeking refuge under the ornate architecture around the balcony door. She had met a great number of tonight's honored guests during her years with the movement, wringing money from the galactic pockets of various alien races. Some of the agreements had even been in writing. It would be awkward if any of them tried to get her to repay for their investments.

She scanned the crowd until she found Alek. He was deep in conversation with a shorter human woman with red hair. The familiar pang of envy crept up at how easily he slipped into conversation with complete strangers. Taking a deep breath, she screwed up all her courage. Just as she was finally ready to walk over and join in, the band struck up a song. Kells froze. The music was too loud, the rhythm too steady. This wasn't just simple dinner music, this was dancing music.

Alek glanced back at her and gestured. Oh, no. He wanted her to dance with him. She shook her head "_No_" and mouthed "_Please_". He shrugged, and offered his hand to the red-headed woman with a grin. Kells muttered a prayer of thanksgiving under her breath as the other woman accepted, and the two were swept off into the crowd of dancing guests.

Kells made for the balcony as if the dance floor had suddenly burst into flames.

No matter how lush the greenery, or how spacious the interiors, or how convincing the cyclical lighting system, the Citadel was still a space station. Out on the balcony, the air was no more fresh than inside the party. But the "sunset" deepened the shadows, making it easier to keep out of sight. She would have to interact with some of these people at some point, she knew. Delaying the inevitable was one of Kells' stronger skills.

She frowned and looked at her empty wineglass. To refill it, she would have to go back in. What if Alek should insist on a dance when she did? He had been drinking, he might even do it. She mulled the conundrum as she gazed out over the Presidium.

"What's a girl like you doing in a nice place like this?" a shockingly familiar voice purred from the shadows.

Kells jumped and whirled around, franticly searching for anything she could use as a weapon. The wine glass was her first instinct; she could smash the bowl and jab the stem into his eye.

"How did you find me?" she demanded,

"Relax, relax," he chuckled as he stepped into the light. "This is just a happy coincidence."

She gripped her glass a little tighter. "Coincidence? What are you doing here?"

Garrus spread his mandibles in a smile, and his hands to show he was unarmed, though the whole situation struck him as sad. If anything, she was even jumpier now than she was the first time he met her. "It's a party, remember? I was invited."

Feeling suddenly foolish, Kells relaxed slightly. "Oh, yeah. That makes sense." She cleared her throat and eased her posture into something less combative. "So, you're all done with that Mission of Deadly Importance you were telling me about? Managed to save the human race from extinction yet again?"

He crossed his arms and leaned against the railing. "Something like that. I see your funding mission was successful as well."

She laughed. "You were right about the Hanar, by the way. They said it was 'the will of the Enkindlers that we slip our chains of bondage'. Whatever that means. And, turns out the Elcor were also interested in our cause. There's something of a Human-mania going on with them right now. I had to sit through a sixteen hour version of some Earth play I've never heard of, but the credits were worth it." She glanced at him sidelong. His posture was a valiant attempt at looking relaxed. "I'm boring you. Sorry."

Garrus shook himself slightly, embarrassed at his own rudeness. "No, of course not. I'm just not... comfortable at these kind of things." Shepard had insisted that he "dress nice" and leave his visor in their room. He could not shake the itching feeling of vulnerability creeping up under his head fringe.

Kells nodded in sympathy and patted his arm. "She's ok, by the way."

"Who is?" he asked, not turning to look at her but instead continuing to search the other room for Shepard.

"Your woman," she said flippantly.

Garrus turned on her, aggression rising at her impish grin. "What are you talking about?" he demanded.

"Oh, give it up." She rolled her eyes. "I recognize a self-satisfied gleam when I see one. Shepard. She's yours now, isn't she?"

He looked down, trying not to look _too _satisfied, as his mandibles twitched into a grin. "That obvious, huh?"

"Secret's safe with me. Although that's my husband she's dancing with, and he can't keep a secret to save his life." She smiled as Alek spun the other woman, both laughing delightedly. "Don't worry, he's also faithful to a fault." She patted Garrus on the arm, as his shoulders hunched slightly. "He'll flirt with her, but that's just how he is. He doesn't mean anything by it."

Garrus looked down at her. Her eyes were shining brightly, her cheeks delicately flushed, the words tumbling out of her mouth so easily. "Just how much wine have you had to drink tonight, anyway?"

She sniffed haughtily. "I don't see how any of that is your business."

They watched as Alek dipped Shepard to a just-a-bit-too-low level. Shepard blushed and appeared to giggle in response. Garrus clamped down on the growl that was rising in his chest. "Faithful to a fault you say?" He looked at her sidelong, trying to gauge her mood, and decided to tempt fate. "I guess opposites _do_ attract."

She whirled on him and he braced himself, but the blow never came. She stopped herself and laughed. "You asshole," she chided, and then laughed again. It was a beautiful sound. Her laugh was rich and throaty, and it occurred to Garrus that he had never heard her laugh like this before, with no edge of bitterness or anger. He pulled her close.

"Hey, wait," she stammered, protesting.

"The night is young, and so are we," he said, mandibles quirking. "May I have this dance?" He took her left hand in his right, placed the other on the small of her back, and began swaying in time to the music floating out to the balcony.

"I don't dance," she argued, her expression totally serious as she began to move with him.

He grinned. "You don't dance in front of a crowd, you mean," he corrected. "But there's nobody out here. Come on, for old time's sake."

Her shoulders relaxed and she smiled. He led her in a simple dance that Shepard had been teaching him, but she was not Shepard. Shepard's movements were always decisive, precise, and sure, planned out several steps in advance. Kells was pure reaction, fluid movement that anticipated nothing, and effortlessly followed where he led.

He spun her, and her hair floated in the warm breeze. It was a deceptive submission, he knew. As soon as he tried to lead her somewhere she did not want to go, she would be twisting out of the dance and disappear into the crowd.

He decided to press his luck again, and pulled her even closer. She gasped, and he could see the faint blush creeping up her face. He dipped her, even lower than Alek had to Shepard and for a moment, as their bodies pressed together, he was possessed by an intense desire.

It was madness. He was with Shepard, and Kells was married. There was no room for them, anywhere. And besides, the woman would not be a good partner to him. He looked at her and saw his confusion and struggle mirrored in her remaining eye.

And smoothly, gracefully, she stepped out of the dance. "Thank you, Mr. Vakarian," she said with perfect cordiality. "But I really must be returning to... the festivities."

"Of course," he replied, squeezing her fingers one last time before letting her go.

She paused at the door and looked back. "Garrus..."

"Yes?"

"Do you think... Well, now that your mission is over and so is the war..." She twisted a lock of hair around her finger, looking oddly ill-at-ease. "Do you think you and the Commander would like to visit Honla sometime? Would you like to..." she cleared her throat. "Meet Stefan? My... my son?"

Garrus paused, paralyzed at the thought. His inner voice screamed loud as a klaxon that he should keep his distance.

"I'd like that."

She smiled in return. "Good. I look forward to having you."

"So long as Shepard doesn't kill me for suggesting it."

"I wouldn't worry about that," Kells said, teasing him with her glare. "She knows how to cure a case of death, doesn't she?"

Garrus barked a short laugh. "I doubt she'd go through the trouble on my account."

"Either way, the offer stands." She stepped toward the doorway, and the light streaming onto the balcony outlined her in its glow. "Goodbye, Garrus."

He watched her go, only daring to follow after she had been re-united with her husband. Shepard was heading his way, still beaming with excitement. He reached out to her, forcing the thought of Kells from his mind.

For now.

* * *

A/N: So there it is, my little noir short piece. I just wanted to take this time to make a few comments in re: the extensive review left on the previous chapter.

I think a big part of the problem here is a misunderstanding of the things I wanted to achieve with this piece. If you look at my profile, I planned from the beginning for this to be a three part story under 6k words. Because of these limitations, things like characterization and even some plot (for example: how she got into the base before chapter one) are going to suffer a bit because I simply don't have the space to explain things the way I would have if this were a novel-length fic.

But I didn't _want_ to make this a novel-length fic because to me, the relationship between these two characters does not merit one. They have a sexual attraction to each other, but that's about it. Garrus doesn't love Kells any more than she loves him. I also do not feel that this is terribly OOC for Garrus, considering his "reach and flexibility" story. He's done this sort of thing before.

As for Kells, she is a character in a novel I've been working on. I'm about halfway through the draft and decided to take a bit of a break and play with her in a totally different setting. I also decided to play with form (the three part noir short story) and shifting POVs and a lot of things I don't normally do. Some of these experiments didn't totally work out to my satisfaction, but there's enough good in there that I felt perhaps other people on would like to see it. I realize that aside from my friends who have seen the draft, the character of Kells can come off as shallow and even Mary Sue-ish, but I thought there was enough good in the story to counteract those shortcomings and still have an enjoyable bit of fanfiction for other people to read. I apologize if you, dear reader, were offended by this offering. It was not my intention to upset anybody.

As a final note, special thanks to Lothering Rose for betaing this chapter, and actually finishing it. (She knows what that means ;) ) And to NotLaura for getting me to write it in the first place!


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